Kat and Copy-Cat/Chapter 3
AND STILL Dick's important work refused to progress. His mind seemed to be absolutely out of commission for anything excepting the reviewing and revolving of the story of his neighbor and his promise to Bert Sands. The Hawaiian girl's life was tragic, the mystery of the disappearance of Jean Walters was also tragic; though the mystery seemed to resolve itself into the mere question of the whereabouts of the girl's body; for there could be little doubt that she had done away with herself somewhere among the gorges of those dark blue-green mountains. But was it likely that the Hawaiian girl knew anything about it more than had been discovered at the time of the disappearance? Still, he could understand that an interview with her might do something toward softening Mrs. Walter's grief, if only because the woman had been nursing the idea that it was something to be desired. Naturally the girl would dread such an interview with a woman from whose home she had been incontinently barred throughout her intimacy with the woman's daughter. Not that she would ever have wished to go there, he felt sure; there was too much pride in the girl's whole bearing and in her eyes to permit the suggestion that she would ever accept any patronage, especially from such a source; but nevertheless, any contact with Mrs. Walters must necessarily be humiliating to a girl of her spirit; and to compass such an interview looked to be about the most unlikely task which could possibly be conceived.
However, he set his wits to the problem of trying to evolve some suggestion of a first step in the desired direction, but nothing in the way of a plausible course could he work out. Obviously, the first move should be to establish some sort of an acquaintance, or at least, an exchange of courtesies, with the girl; but how to bring it about seemed to be entirely beyond the scope of his thinking apparatus. There was no place to begin. He could not even start with a clean slate; for in the light of the revelations of Mrs. Sands, his blunder had been even more egregious than he could possibly have dreamed. Unintentional though it so manifestly was, yet the memory of it would serve as a barrier between them, which was beyond all likelihood of breaking down. Still, he had promised to make the effort, and therefore he was going to be alert for every smallest opportunity; but he was not at all sanguine of success.
And meantime his typewriter made inconsequent marks upon inconsequent pages while a number of days went by, and involuntarily his ears inclined themselves in the direction of the neighboring lanai; although the ironwood wind-break with swishing branches, the boarded-up end of his own lanai and the prevailing wind from the mountains, all conspired to afford him the complete isolation which, in any other circumstances, he would have coveted.
And then one morning, as he sat before the unresponsive typewriter and his eyes wandered to the curve of the road, beyond the garden; he caught a glimpse of the slender figure in a swirling yellow frock and with bare head, facing the wind, with her hand twisted in the chain of the great grey police dog which was eagerly forging ahead, as if he sniffed game in the wilds beyond.
Dick sprang up and clashed out in her wake. He could at least meet or pass her, and say good morning; she could scarcely set the dog on him for that, especially if the encounter were obviously accidental. Outside of his hedge, he could see the curve of the road around which she had been going, but she was already out of sight; so he hurried along, nearly running, almost to the bend; and then suddenly slowed down to a nonchalant gait in order to saunter around the curve in the most ingenuous manner possible,—evidently merely out for a casual stroll. However, when the turned the bend, there lay a long stretch of empty road in front of him, without a sign of human being or dog upon it. He stopped, incredulous. She couldn't have gotten out of sight so quickly. He stared about and then back; and just behind him, only a yard or so, he saw her coming down onto the road from a slight eminence where she had evidently stood when he passed, with every opportunity to observe his rapid approach, his sudden careful assumption of casual indifference, and then his discomfiture at finding the road empty. Mercifully, her face was set homeward when he turned his head and saw her; and muttering imprecations between his teeth, he strode on up the road, perfectly conscious that she must be laughing at him for a preposterous idiot.
When he was sure that she must have reached home and entered her own compound, he turned back and eventually stalked up the path to his own door, not at all sure but that she might be still laughing at him through the screening vines and foliage of her garden. Once within, he attacked his typewriter with vicious energy; but had no more than begun when the honk of an automobile brought him to his feet, recognizing Bert Sands's particular play upon the key.
Before he could reach the door, the young woman was standing in the entrance with the usual shining eyes and wind-blown rings of black hair, her hands in the pockets of a pair of grey knickers. "Hello!" she called; "I came up Tantalus to get some violets of the Jap down below here, and ran across a visitation headed your way and thought that I'd come on up and warn you. Haven't a minute to spare, really; needed the violets for company tea. You see, I like to get them up here, nice and fresh and blue and white, all done up in ti leaves in the good old-fashioned way."
"But wait! Don't be in such a rush!" protested Dick. "Tell me who's coming. Thank you for giving me time to take to the woods."
"No! No!" exclaimed Bert Sands, seriously; "I don't want you to take to the woods. When the Kat Mortons come clear up Tantalus just to casually drop in to see somebody, that means that they have a deep and profound reason for doing it. Take it from me, the Kat Mortons want to use you some way; and it will be much better to find out what they are after."
"But what for?" objected Dick. "Why not just avoid them and let it go at that? I don't want to be bothered with them, or with having to refuse to be made some sort of a convenience. I'd rather light out."
Bert shook her head. "I'd rather you'd stay, if you don't mind," she said. "You see, they have Carter McKnight with them, and they are ostensibly coming up for a picnic and are going to drop in on you merely because they happened to be passing. I know how they'll do it. Kat looked a whole cutlery shop at the Copy when she blurted out they were coming here. She'll get it when she gets home. She's not supposed ever to say anything that her sister hasn't platted out for her; and when she does, there's usually the dickens to pay."
"But who's Carter McKnight?" questioned Dick, puzzled; "And what could they want of me?"
Bert stepped a little closer. "Carter McKnight," she said, "is Jim McKnight's brother. He came out here at the time that Jim was killed, and took the body home. Now he's here again, came a week ago, and seems to be trying to take his brother's place with Kat Morton. And now, when those two inert pieces of fur, along with him, take a trip up Tantalus and picnic out among the little bugs and ants and things, it isn't because they are doing it to have a good time. And when they have it all planned out that they are going to make an impromptu call upon a gentleman who lives next door to their dusky cousin-by-chance (asking Mrs. Grundy's pardon for mentioning the kinship), it isn't one of those things which just happen to happen, you can take it from me."
"Oh, I see," said Dick, speculatively; "So you think that's the active principle in their sudden interest in me. All right, then, I'll stay on and find out what's in the wind. But give me some pointers as to how to handle things. I don't remember them well enough to have any sort of a line on them. They simply weren't my kind aboard ship, and so I didn't pay any attention."
"Don't do a thing, just watch them," said Bert; "and try to make out what they are up to. They are both of them just soft, sweet, ultra-feminine girls, the kind that go in for lacy, diaphanous effects;—picnicking today, both of them have on white skirts and dainty little pink and blue sweaters as thin as cobwebs; and their voices caress you and admire you and—oh, you know, they are the poor-little-me kind. And even then, they are sort of sleek. Kat rolls cream on her tongue all the time. It makes her words slide as if they were greased, and her eyes are unctuous and fawning, and she purrs and purrs. Say, you know how a cat will work her claws softly in and out and positively drool her affection for you; and then suddenly dig those claws in clear to the bone;—and then look up into your face with perfect adoration and purr with tender ingenuousness; and with streaks of cat nature flicking across her eyes all the time. Well, that's Kat Morton; and her sister is a rather fair imitation; but not quite such a finished product."
"Sounds nice" commented Dick, cheerfully. "And what about McKnight?"
"H'm. Rather poor stuff," she said. "Gives an impressions of being underbred and conscious of it, and so he carries a line of immobility and stiff repression to cover it up. He has an enameled exterior, and while what is underneath doesn't seem to break through, the odor oozes out just the same."
"Sort of a whited sepulcher," suggested Dick.
"I don't know," said Bert. "He may be bad, or he may be only ill-bred. He has the lid on to hide something, but what it is—far be it from me to do any guessing. And now I've got to go. Haven't made any progress yet in the main issue, have you?"
"Yes," said Dick, "Progress crab-fashion."
"Howcum?" inquired Bert, her ready grin flashing into evidence. And Dick retailed his morning experience, not sparing himself when he came to the ignominious collapse of his carefully prepared dramatics.
Bert laughed hilariously. "How beautiful!" she cried. "You surely have the faculty for messing things up, haven't you! Well, never mind; if she has a sense of humor, she will begin to love you for the entertainment you afford her. Now good-bye. I leave you to your visitation. They'll probably be in about tea-time, but don't have anything prepared, or they will guess that you have been put wise. Oh, wait a minute! Help me to move this table," and she grasped the edge of the heavy dining table which stood in the middle of the lanai.
Dick rushed to her assistance. "But where? and what for?" he demanded.
"Right over into the corner there, next to your neighbor's lanai. That is only about three feet away, I gather."
"Yes," said Dick; "But that end of my lanai is boarded up, and the ironwoods make a thick screen outside. What's the idea?"
"Well," said Bert, engineering the rolling of the table, "You don't know the Kats. They are prying, peering, listening creatures, and there's no knowing what they might try to put over. There!" as she shoved the table up as tightly as possible into the corner, "I feel better with that there, anyway."
Dick walked with her to the door. "There is very little sound comes through," he said, "unless some of them come very close to the corner of their lanai. Once in a while I hear the kiddie crying a little, or laughing a little, but that is all."
"Poor baby!" said Bert, pityingly.
"It laughs and cries like any other kiddie," said Dick. "Is it absolutely idiotic?"
"Why, I suppose so," said Bert. "That's what everybody says, though I don't know of anyone who has actually seen it. It must be an awful thing for the poor mother. Think what a life she's leading; and just a young girl, too. She's not more than twenty-one or two, now."
"No," agreed Dick, reminiscently, "She looked to be about twenty, I should say. Well, good-bye, if you must go. I suppose that I have got to stay and face the music."
"Yes, and face the Kat calls," laughed Bert. "Sorry you haven't a telephone, but I'll be up soon to hear about what happens. And oh, by the way, be sure that your skylight is closed and the ladder down;—those girls will nose about everywhere. Good-bye." And Dick went back in to tell Moto to attend to the sky-light and the ladder and to have something ready for tea, but to make it seem extemporaneous, just the same.
It was about four o'clock when the visitors arrived. The girls were deliciously sweet and gushing and so interested in his quarters and peering into all of the rooms with kittenish ingenuousness; and posing before his typewriter and wondering what it would be like to write splendid articles and see them actually in print, and to really have one's name in "Who's Who!" Wasn't it just marvelous to be so brilliant as that; and doing it all out of his own head, too!
Carter McKnight proved to be an excellent recommendation for Mrs. Sand's descriptive powers. A wooden man, silent with a hard silence; watchful of others and of himself; absolutely a stranger to spontaneity. Ordinarily Dick would not have found him worth considering.
Eventually Dick got them herded to the far end of the lanai, on the promise of tea, and began a disquisition upon the clever habits of the mynah birds, by way of entertainment; but very shortly Kat grew restive and showed an inclination to take the conversation into her own hands; and Dick agreeably acquiesced, watching interestedly to see what its trend would be. At first it was all eulogistic of the view and the coolness of the air and his cleverness in hunting out so perfect a place to carry on his work; and then she turned to McKnight with condolences that he had been less fortunate in finding a satisfactory place to stay during his sojourn in the Islands. He suffered so dreadfully from the heat, she explained to Dick, being accustomed to a cooler climate. It was such a pity; and there was not another house to be had on Tantalus, not one; they had been inquiring today.
Dick sympathized, and suggested a period at the Volcano, where the altitude makes for cooler weather; but that would not do at all; for, as Kat said, he had matters to attend to in Honolulu, and could not go farther away. No, Tantalus was the only possible place; and really was tantalizing because of being so near, and yet without so much as a bunk where he could put up for a couple of weeks, until he could finish what he had to do here. And then she waited for Dick's hospitable impulses to produce the desired response.
However, the response was not forthcoming. Dick sympathized some more and then turned the subject; but Kat brought it back with the attack direct. Couldn't he take a friend in for just that long? It would be such a favor. McKnight had a roadster and could run back and forth to town,—wouldn't have to trespass for anything but a bed; and it would be such a perfectly wonderful thing, and so lovely and generous of Dick if he would do it, as of course he would, seeing that it wouldn't discommode him the least bit in the world.
Dick protested that he had only one bed-room. Was sorry, certainly; but that disposed of the matter, of course.
But it didn't. Kat assured him that McKnight wouldn't mind sleeping right out there on the lanai on the couch; and if Dick were short of bedding for an extra; why they, the Mortons, would be glad to supply anything that was needed. Of course that settled it conclusively, and Kat began to express her appreciation of Dick's hospitality in the creamiest sort of a way, and McKnight, hitherto silent, appeared now to be waiting to get in a word edgewise by way of gratitude.
But Dick interrupted rather tersely. It was absolutely out of the question. His work required the isolation which he had sought in coming up here; and the work must be considered paramount. He was sorry; but the idea was utterly impracticable.
Kat was very sweet and creamy about it. She understood. Of course she understood. Genius must have its quietude in which to blossom. It was an imposition for them to have even suggested that so small a matter as the health of a stranger within their gates should be considered at all. Life and death were small affairs indeed compared to the permanence of literary masterpieces—and the dollars which they brought. It all slid forth suavely and sweetly and without a hint of acridity in the tone; but only the most humble admiration and adulation; and Dick possessed his soul with such patience as he could and devoutly wished that he had a bag and a brick and a tub of water handy.
And then, Kat having smiled appreciatively at Dick, she arose and went over to the corner of the lanai where the heavy table stood, close against the nearest approach to the neighboring house. She tried to move the table aside but it proved too heavy, and as Dick did not offer to assist and McKnight was too lacking in self-confidence to do so, she gave a soft little laugh and crawled under it, popping up in the little corner made by the rail and the curve of the round table. "Oh," she cried, "the view is lovely from here!" and she bent far out over the rail and grasped some of the branches of the ironwood and tried to swing them aside. "I am sure that I can catch a glimpse of the sea if I can swing these branches far enough." But her face was turned toward the angle of the adjoining house.
Dick sat silent. "Why don't you roll up the canvas curtain on this end of the lanai?" she called. And her voice, soft though it was, still had a penetrating quality when she so chose. And before Dick could answer, she went on, still leaning out over the rail with her face turned in the direction of the neighboring lanai; "But I don't wonder that you keep it down, considering the sort of neighbors that you have."
Dick stood up. "Tea is just coming, Miss Morton," he said. "I will move the table so that you may come out;" and he approached.
"Oh, no!" cried Kat, "I'm not coming yet. I love it over here. Of course you know the story of these people," she went on. "I'm horribly ashamed of it myself because you know, in a way, it reflects upon our family. And think what my darling aunt has suffered! I just simply never could understand how my cousin could run after that vulgar half-white man. It was absolutely incredible."
Dick stood beside the table controlling himself with an effort, perfectly conscious that her words must carry through the screen and to the next lanai, and praying that the Hawaiian girl might not be within hearing distance. "I had not understood," he said, with difficult repression, "that David Malua was vulgar. I have been told that he had some of the best Hawaiian blood in the Islands."
"Of course he was vulgar! All kanakas are vulgar. They're niggers. My cousin must have gotten her taste from her father; it certainly didn't come from our side of the house."
Dick was seething. "Miss Morton," he said crisply, "if souls were worn on the outside of the skin instead of inside, the general run of Hawaiians would make the most of us look as if we came out of the blackest part of Africa. Now suppose we have tea." And he drew the table aside to permit her to pass.
But Kat was not to be coerced and stood still in her chosen corner, leaning as far as possible toward the ironwoods, and she turned her eyes, big and reproving, upon Dick. "Why, Mr. Harris!" she cried, "what a dreadful thing to say! Why, I think that's awful. Wait until I tell you a few things. Come on, let's have tea over here on this table, and I'll sit right here on the rail. Come on over, Calista, we're going to have tea over here! Oh, yes, Mr. Harris, and I want to ask you something else. Listen, do you ever hear or see anything of that awful child? I'd like to see what it really looks like;" and she bent farther through the ironwoods. "They say that it is horribly deformed and is just like an animal,—has no mind at all. Isn't that shocking? Why"
But Dick interrupted her desperately, at the same time waving the others back. "Miss Morton," he said, "I had that table put there as a guard. The supports under that corner of the lanai are undermined and there is danger of it going down into the valley; and the rail is loose in consequence of the sinking. I didn't want to frighten you, but I have tried by every other means to get you away from there." But before he had finished speaking Kat had scrambled from the rail and was standing gasping in the middle of the floor.
"Oh, how terrible!" she cried. "Why, I might have plunged down into that awful depth! Oh, Calista, get me something quick; I believe I'm going to faint. Let's get out of this dangerous place; the whole house may go over the pali."
"No, there's nothing to fear," said Dick, gravely. "It is only the support at that corner that is weakened. It is all right over here. Now come and have some hot tea and you will be all right. Here it is, all ready for you."
And Kat permitted herself to be gently assisted by Carter McKnight, and accepted the tea and a sandwich; but the flow of her conversation was broken, and as soon as they had finished the refreshment they made their adieux, gushingly and sweetly, and thanked him for his charming entertainment; and Kat added that she was sure that the world would be much richer for the delightful isolation with which he had surrounded himself, in such close proximity with just one neighbor, of the race for which he possessed such a remarkable predilection.
And then they entered their car and drove away.
Dick went back into the house and swore. Never in his life had he been so thoroughly exasperated and so absolutely without recourse in the way of defense. If the Hawaiian girl had been upon her lanai, she must necessarily have heard every word of Kat's venomous diatribe, and must have known that it was intended for her ears, as well; which made it all the more despicable. He walked the floor in a rage. What would his neighbor think of him? She would not have been able to hear his defense of her race, of that he was certain; and how could she have been sure that he was not in perfect agreement with Kat's arraignment? And then the heartless comments upon the little child! It was unendurable! And then his mind reverted to the object of their call. Unquestionably their purpose had been to induce him to take in Carter McKnight as a guest. That was self-evident, but what lay back of it? He had no confidence in the man; but, granted that he was unprincipled, what object could he possibly have in coming to live next door to the woman who had been indirectly the cause of his brother's death, and why should the Morton girls try to further the project? The matter seemed absolutely without reason, and yet he was positively convinced that the man's object in desiring to come, was in some way connected with the girl next door. Well, perhaps Mrs. Sands could evolve a solution. He must see her as soon as possible. At any rate, it was perfectly evident that Kat's horrible behavior must have put another effectual nail in the coffin of his hopes of amity with Mrs. Malua and any influence which he might exert toward inducing her to see the mother of Jean Walters.
He got into his car and drove down to town to talk it over with Bert Sands; but she and her husband were out on some sort of a hike of exploration, and so he dined in town and drove back up the mountain in anything but a happy frame of mind.
The next morning was no better. Work was impossible, since his mind persisted in continually revolving and rehearsing the events of the past few days and in trying to fit some reasonable and logical hypothesis to account for the designs of his yesterday's guests. Nevertheless, from mere force of habit, he sat before his typewriter, rolling cigarettes and thinking and puzzling as he looked off across the valley at the steep ridge opposite, with its ledges of rock and its clambering green vines, ti plants and wild mango and kukui trees. The top of the ridge was fairly clear of tall growth, but there were no houses high up on that side of the valley, and probably no trails, as he had never seen the movement of any living thing upon it.
However, as his eyes rested there idly this morning he, for the first time, saw moving forms making their way along from the direction of the distant slope toward the town. He watched them indolently, wondering what should have taken people to that isolated ridge and how they got up there, to begin with. And then he remembered that Bert Sands had said that she and Jack were planning to do some exploring on the Manoa ridges, and on the chance that it might be they, he reached to his desk for his field glasses which he had on hand for bird study.
At first he could not make out much, as the trampers were going through some tangles of vines and scrub growths; but presently they came more into the open and he saw that there were three in the party and Bert evidently not among them, as she always wore knickers when she hiked, and the two women of this group both wore skirts, and the other member was undoubtedly a man. Listlessly he watched their progress, through the glass, as they came nearer along the top of the ridge. Occasionally they stopped and appeared to reconnoiter, and then came on over the rough way until they were nearly opposite his own lanai. Here they stopped and sat down, evidently to rest, facing in his direction. Then both of the women lifted off their broad-brimmed hats, and something in the movement made Dick suddenly sit up and quickly turn his glasses to better focus. They were good glasses and it took but a glance to tell him that the group opposite him consisted of the two Morton girls and Carter McKnight. But what the deuce were they doing there? If what Bert Sands had said about the girls' inert habits was true, then why this incredible exertion of climbing to such a hopelessly inaccessible spot, through guava, klu and lantana thickets and over steep and rough lava-strewn mountain sides? If they could possibly have come to spy upon his neighbor, how could they hope to observe anything at that distance;—unless—and closer he screwed the glass, and then he sprang to his feet with an imprecation, overturning his chair and making a dash for the door and out through the hedge, shouting sharply for Fong.
The police dog set up a wild clamor and the Chinaman appeared at the kitchen door like a jack-in-the-box. "Quick!" shouted Dick, "Make down front curtain, quick! Both curtain, quick!"
"Wassmatter?" inquired the scowling Chinaman.
"Don't wait!" shouted Dick; "Go and do it or I'll do it myself. Wiki-wiki!"
The Chinaman slid away and Dick stood still at the opening of the hedge while he heard the banging of the poles as first one and then the other of the heavy curtains dropped. Then the Chinaman appeared at the door again and repeated aggressively "Wassmatter?"
At the same moment the Hawaiian girl came to the other entrance. Her eyes were big and startled. "What is the trouble?" she asked, breathlessly.
Dick approached a little nearer, up the walk. "There are people on the ridge opposite," he said.
"Well," she said, coolly; "Occasionally trampers go up there."
"But," hesitated Dick; "These are not trampers."
"Who are they?" asked the girl, quickly.
"The Morton girls and McKnight."
"And who?" The girl's voice was like a gasp.
"Carter McKnight. They were here yesterday."
"But what is he doing in Hawaii?" There was a note of terror in her tone.
"He came only a week or so ago," said Dick. "He says that he has business affairs here to attend to."
"And he was here,—here in your house yesterday?"
"Yes. The Morton girls brought him up. I never saw him before."
The girl bit her lip. "I knew that they were there," she said; "But I didn't know who was with them. What did they come for?"
Dick was frank. "It appeared that the object was to get me to take McKnight as a guest for a week or so."
"Oh!" cried the girl; "You're not going to? You wouldn't do that?"
"No, no!" said Dick, soothingly. "I told them that it wasn't possible, and that rather upset Kat's disposition, as perhaps you know. But don't worry, they'll never get into my place again."
The girl's brow wrinkled. "And now they are up on the ridge opposite?" she said. "But do you suppose that they could see anything at all at that distance?"
"Yes," said Dick, quietly, "They had a spy-glass."
"Oh!" cried the girl, clasping her hands. "Do you suppose that we got the curtain down in time?"
"I don't know," said Dick, "At first I didn't see what they were up to; but just as soon as I did, I tore over here. I didn't bother to focus my glasses much at first, not until I guessed who they were; but it takes longer to adjust the sort of a glass that they have, so perhaps they didn't get much. Anyway, they can't see now," he added, comfortingly.
"But I can't keep the curtain down all the time," protested the girl.
"Oh!" said Dick, "Don't worry. They will never make a trip like that again. Still, I wouldn't roll it up until you are sure that they are gone. They may have thought that you put it down just to shut out the sun, and they might wait for it to come up again when the sun gets around farther. Here, you'd better take my glasses, and keep them in sight through the space between the two curtains; and then when you see them go, you'll be all right."
The girl took the glasses dubiously. "But won't you need them?" she asked.
"No," said Dick, "I have another pair. I only use those to catch mynah birds with. Keep them as long as you choose; I can use the others just as well."
The girl turned the glasses in her fingers anxiously. "I wonder—" she said; "Oh, I do wonder if we were in time."
"We'll hope so," said Dick, cheerfully.
"Thank you," said the girl, and turned toward the door; and then suddenly she turned back and her eyes were wide. She came quite near to him. "Are you—" she almost whispered, "—are you sure that it was a spy-glass that they had?"
"Why, yes," said Dick; "Certainly it was a spy-glass. What else should it be?"
"You are sure?" her breath was coming rapidly and her hands clenched; "You are sure that it wasn't a—a gun?"
"Oh, nonsense!" cried Dick. "Of course I'm sure. I could see perfectly plainly that it was a spy-glass. Now don't worry about anything like that. It certainly was a spy-glass;—and anyway, a gun couldn't shoot any such distance as that. You know that, yourself."
The girl relaxed somewhat. "I'm sorry," she said, "to seem foolish; but the thought frightened me so. Thank you so much for everything," and she turned again and went back into the house.
And Dick returned to his lanai and sat down once more before his typewriter. "Now I wonder," he said to himself, "I wonder if she really is not—pupu-le."